Maybe I’ll allow the sunrise wishes to finally work.
One day.
River’s parentsown a chain restaurant that’s located throughout most of the southern states, so their house is huge, and they’re also rarely home. If River and I had been different kids, it would’ve given us a lot of chances for trouble, but mostly it just meant we were able to spend entire weekends on our own, playing video games without being bothered. Also, half the time he was at my house because my parents sort of adopted him as their own.
The long circular driveway is empty in front of the oceanfront three-story mansion. I sit in my car with it off for a few moments, steeling myself and doing my best to hype myself up for what’s to come. It’s only a bonfire. We’ve had hundreds of these over the years.
My phone vibrates with an unknown number, and I truly don’t know what possesses me to answer it. Some stupidity comes over me that I’ll never be able to explain.
“Hello?”
“Come home!” Anthony shouts into the phone, and I wince, holding the phone away from my ear. “Seriously? Blocking me? You’re thirty-two years old. Fucking come back now.”
“No.”
“You’re just going to stay with your parents indefinitely?” Anthony asks as if it’s the worst thing he’s ever considered. “Your career is here in Boston.”
“Mycareer”—I stress the word carefully—“as a bartender and gig musician?”
“Itriedto get you to take the assistant job at the firm. None of this would’ve happened had you taken it.”
I grit my teeth against every bitter word I want to say. Arguing with Anthony is fruitless because the moment I express an emotion, he argues I don’t have a right to feel that way. That I’ve misunderstood everything he’s ever said, and that I’m the wrong one. I am not willing to admit how many times I’ve apologized when Anthony was the one who hurt me.
“Are you implying that your cheating was my fault?” I ask through gritted teeth. I don’t know why I was with this man so long. Like, was I fucking stupid, blind, or a dangerous mix of both? I bang my forehead against the steering wheel as I await Anthony’s irritated barb.
“No,” Anthony answers succinctly. “Just come home, baby. I’ll take you to that gluten-free restaurant that you love, buy you a new guitar. Just come home.”
I rest my forehead against the wheel, taking a deep, steadying breath. I remember all the times he would berate my guitar playing, all the times he said I should play for the orchestra. Get arealjob, he’d say, as if being a touring musician isn’t a real job. Really what he hated was me being gone, because it meant there was no one around for him to fuck with constantly. No one to gaslight. No one to tear down. Because it took me far too long to realize what he was doing to me was abuse. I still don’t really know if I understand thedepth of it, but I know enough to know that his love isn’t good for me, and going back will never be an option.
“I’m not coming back,” I say firmly as I step out of the car.
“You’re useless,” Anthony bites out, just before hanging up.
It’s not the first time he’s called me that in the heat of an argument, but it’ll be the last. I press my phone to my forehead, a shiver of some emotion rolling through me. Maybe fear, maybe sadness, maybe relief that I finally did what I should’ve done so many years ago, but at least I don’t have anything to lose since I’m starting over anyway. I squeeze my eyes shut tight to stop them from watering, not wanting to feel any emotion beyond numbness tonight. Grabbing my guitar out of the back seat, I sling the soft bag over my shoulder and make my way toward River’s parents’ backyard.
River is standing out on the shore, hands tucked under his armpits, head tilted back toward the sky. A rush of familiar nostalgia hits me at the sight of him. I rest my guitar against the back deck and head toward him. At the sound of me approaching, River turns around with a forced smile on his lips. Something about the sight pauses me.
“’Sup?” I ask, as chill as possible. River can be a deer in headlights sometimes, so acting as normal as possible is the best way to play my hand.
River takes a deep breath, then lets out a small laugh. “I’m just worried about the lantern festival. I don’t want to fuck something else up.”
Ah, there it is. In some ways my parental trauma is a blessing, compared to River’s lifelong never-ending trauma from his parents. He’s never good enough, no matter what he does. It’s made him feel like a failure in almost every aspect of his life. But River has always felt bigger than life to me, so I’ve never understood the drama his parents inflict on him.
“You won’t fuck it up. It’ll begreat. I promise.”
River knocks his shoulder into mine with a shy smile. “I missed you so much. Please don’t run away again. Please.”
I wrap my arm around his shoulder and pull him close to me, feeling all sorts of things when he rests his head against my shoulder. Rubbing my hand over his bicep, I wonder if there’s something else he isn’t telling me. But River takes patience and care to get anything out of him. We’re two sides of the same coin in some ways. River doesn’t run, he stays close, but he stays quiet and closed up. Whereas I prefer to run before anyone can know they’ve hurt me or upset me.
“I don’t plan to leave again.” I press a kiss to his forehead, then lean my head against his as we watch the gentle blue waves. “I know what I want now, and I think it’s okay to want it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Coming home made me realize that running is kind of pointless if this is the first place I come back to when shit hits the fan. Maybe I never should’ve left.”
“Gotta leave sometimes to know where you belong.”
“Fucking philosopher over here.”
